


The Adventure of Steve Rogers: Rebirth

by justanotherpipedream, Naferty



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Do-Over, Historical Inaccuracy, Inaccurate Time-Period Dialogue, Jealousy, M/M, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherpipedream/pseuds/justanotherpipedream, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naferty/pseuds/Naferty
Summary: Steve can admit he kept a few secrets from his teammate. To be fair, Tony kept a few of his own. Steve just didn’t realize the extent of those secrets until a time traveler from Tony’s past was thrown on his floor. Apparently, someone decided that he didn’t know his teammate well enough either until he was very literally, and unwillingly, thrown into the past to see it for himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So if you've been following us on tumblr, you might've seen this idea take off and turn into a massive snowball. This is going to be a long one so buckle in, and we hope you enjoy the ride!

Sparks flew as the metal he was working on grew a hot, bright red. Tony turned off the welder with a sigh, tossing his mask and gloves onto the workbench. He eyed his mangled armor appraisingly. One repair down, only… fifty to go. Doable.

He grimaced as he stared at his empty mug. Old coffee stains caked on the bottom. He grabbed a new cup on his way to his trusty machine and poured the coffee grounds into it. Not bothering with measurement or common sense. While it brewed he waved his arms above the holographic table, thousands and thousands of emails staring back at him. Color-coded based on importance and many of them blinking red at him.

“FRIDAY, sort by priority and time sensitivity. What’s my schedule like tomorrow?”

“Well boss, you’ve got a nine thirty with the board, then a press conference at eleven to address the cleanup from yesterday’s battle.”

Tony closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with an even longer sigh. It had been 48 hours since Steve and company returned back to American soil, and even less since Steve elected the Tower as his residence, and already Tony had a thunderous headache pulsing behind his eyes. At least with yesterday’s battle they had something to focus on and getting the job done. But now… he didn't even want to think about it. Too much going on at once, and all from one man.

It had only been two days and Tony had already walked into the kitchen only to immediately back out five times in order to avoid awkward conversations he _knew_ were going to happen. One stubborn supersoldier was a force to be reckoned with.

Thankfully, if there was one thing Tony still had in spades, it was his determination. Rhodey would call it stubbornness, but Tony didn’t survive decades of the press hounding him without a thick skin, and an extra layer for added measures.

It that meant Tony dooming himself to awkward encounters for the rest of his life, then so be it. He had gone centuries through them. What's another century for old times sake? He could pretend. He had always been the master of denial.

He didn’t have the time to let himself dwell on it anyways. There was too much work to be done, and time waited for no one, not even himself.

Tony shook his head as he turned back to his armor. Thanks to the last battle, there were too many repairs to his suit and hardly any time at all.

“How are the scans coming, Fri? Anything yet on our mysterious space rock?”

“Still scanning boss. There are levels of strange energy emitting in waves, but results remain inconclusive.”

“Hmm. Let me know if there’s anything interesting happening.”

Tony glanced over at the multi-colored stone by the computer. With more small alien attacks occurring around the globe, post-battle clean up became an even bigger pain. Scavenged from one of the larger command ships, the mysterious stone pulsed some sort of power before it crashed some of the ships around it. It was enough to let him know of its importance, and something he could use against the multiple invasions. Now if he could just figure out how it worked…

He groaned. It had never been _this_ _complicated_ back in his day. Granted it used to be so simple, but this was just all pure outlandish when compared. If only…

A warning beep sounded as Tony looked up in alarm. FRIDAY sounded the alarm. “Boss, there’s something wrong. Evacuate the workshop -”

The stone pulsed a bright blue, engulfing the workshop and himself in bright light. A loud echo rang in his ears as he was thrown to the floor, and for one crazy moment, he swore he heard the shout of a very dear, but long gone, friend of his.

He must have finally snapped mentally for he was sure, once he got his bearings, he was seeing _ghosts_ , and ghosts don't just stand in the middle of his workshop looking like John Watson, dressed to the nines in very familiar garbs straight from the 1800s and looking shell shocked.

“W-Watson?” he didn't even recognize his own voice. Accent coming forth out of reflex from saying that name so many times. It had been _years_ since he used it. _Damn_ , how _many_ years?

Tony stared at the figure, gaze never wavering. The ghost looked exactly like he remembered Watson to be. Same blue eyes, same pointed nose, same mustache, even the same damn top hat John had been so fond of. He held the same black cane in his hands, covered by one of his set of black gloves. There was no coat, but one of John’s favored grey vest stretched over his chest. The same one Tony had found to his liking all those years ago.

Tony stood on unsteady legs, needing to use a table to balance. Seeing this ghost, in the middle of his lab, had thrown him upside down. If it wasn’t aliens, Norse gods, supersoldiers, or radioactive, green rage monsters, it was ghosts of his past.

“Watson?” he tried again because this ghost wasn’t acting like a typical ghost caught on tape or in horror films. This ghost appeared freaked out of his mind. Eyes wider than what Tony had ever seen on John. He looked _alive_ , and that was impossible.

The ghost, trying to ground himself, focused on the only thing that resembled familiarity. “H-Holmes?” The damn ghost _talked_ , and looked far too panicked to be Tony’s imagination. “Is that - I’ve gone mad!”

Looked like him, sounded like him, was shouting exactly like him. His hands clutched the cane for dear life. If the black gloves weren’t present, Tony would bet they were white from the pressure extorted. The poor thing’s heart must have been seconds away from stopping and already Tony could hear his own breath hitching.

Perhaps someone out there had granted him a boon, or perhaps he had truly lost it, but Tony was a man of opportunity. He always was a selfish man. So, he did the only thing he could do and took the only chance he might ever get again.

With more strength than he had, Tony strode over, avoiding the deadly cane waving around in panic, ignoring the sounds of the lab doors opening, and wrapped his arms around the frantic man in an embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve stared at the sandwich on the plate in front of him. Slices of salami slotted between the cheese. Arugula, peppers and dijon mustard were neatly arranged between the lightly toasted pieces of rye. Transferring the sandwich to the silver tray, next to the glass of water,  Steve carefully balanced the tray, making his way to the elevator.

His heart was pounding more than usual, and he clenched the tray tightly as he pressed the button with his hip. _It’s just a sandwich. You can do this. You’ve done it countless times before. You bring Tony lunch. You laugh, and sometimes you even talk for a while. This time doesn’t have to be anything different._

Steve closed his eyes as the elevator doors shut behind him.

Who was he trying to kid, everything _was_ different. Every conversation trailed off into an uncomfortable silence. Every passing touch, no matter how accidental, had Tony flinching. And that was what hurt the most, knowing he had caused so much damage that Tony was… _afraid_ of him. So much so that every touch he attempted was perceived as hostile to the genius.

Steve knows he can’t go back in time to change things, no matter how much he desperately wished he could. He just wished… that Tony would look at him again. Even if it was only to yell, to argue, anything was better than the wariness, the _fear_ , he had managed to see once.

They used to spend hours together in the workshop, Tony working away while Steve sketched in the corner. Not always interacting, but always comfortable in each other’s company, even if they didn’t speak for hours on end. He knew how Tony got when something got his attention. He didn’t mind. The quiet and calm atmosphere with the soft flickering sounds created by the holographic screens and the sparks from the torches were a refreshing scenery after days of adrenaline rushes and guns and explosions.

Tony always had that ability to make people feel at ease. Unlike Steve, who sometimes wished he could shove his mouth in his foot to stop talking. Tony was always the best at putting people at ease.

Sometimes, it felt as if Tony knew Steve even better than Steve knew himself. Considering those days, where so much had happened to them and so easily broken by it. Discovering exactly what he’s capable of when someone stands in his way.

Steve had meant it when he said Tony hadn’t seen his dark side yet. Steve himself hadn’t seen it either, but now that he had he wished it could be taken back.

His shortsightedness had been his own downfall.

And now Tony can’t even look him in the eyes. Steve couldn’t blame him for it. How could he blame anyone other than himself? It was a wonder that Tony even allowed them back.

The elevator doors opened. Steve straightened up, steeled himself as he mentally went over what to say to Friday to allow him in the lab. Halfway he nearly dropped the tray in his hands when he took in the disarray occuring inside. The entire lab was blinking red in warning. There was an intruder inside with Tony, holding a cane and looking around with rapid movements. The figure didn’t look friendly and Tony was alone and defenseless.

“Tony!” Steve rushed forward, abandoning the plate and readying himself to break down the door. Tony didn’t respond, instead choosing to get closer to the intruder, no doubt ready to fight them off. Steve couldn’t let him do it alone!

By some miracle, or Friday understanding her creator’s plight, the doors opened. Steve made his move, the order for Tony to back away on the tip of his tongue only for him to skid to a stop at what happened next.

There was no punch, no kick, not even biting. Instead, Tony had wrapped his arms tightly around the man, and Steve held his breath as he waited for the man to strike back. Tony wasn’t fighting the intruder off. No, he was _hugging_ the man. Hugging this period wearing delusional man as if he had been an old friend.

To say Steve had been shocked from the sight was putting it mildly. The lab was a mess, the blinking red lights signalled danger, and yet Tony thought the situation called for a hug.

Steve had never seen Tony hug - _willingly_ hug - anyone in all the years he’d known him.

He had heard the phrase ‘killing someone with kindness,’ but he didn’t think it was meant literally.

Seeing no obvious danger he carefully walked closer. He didn’t know what to make of the situation, but asking seemed like the first step. “Tony?”

Neither the man named or the intruder moved to respond. The closer he got the more easily he noticed _both_ the men shaking. Panic set in. Had the intruder managed to strike Tony?

“ _Tony,_ ” he called a bit more desperately. He was ready to separate the two, to yank Tony away, until faint whispering became distinct and he listened in.

“It’s fine. Watson, it’s fine. You have not gone mad. You are not in any danger. Breathe, Watson. Breathe with me.”

Steve might have gone mad himself because he swore he heard an accent in Tony’s tone.

He took in the cues. Clearly, this intruder wasn’t a stranger. Tony knew him. Clearly, this stranger was a friend. Tony was helping to calm him. Obviously this friend and Tony were close. Tony was hugging him. Steve had never received a hug before. Neither have their teammates. The only ones they’ve seen receive that special treatment were Colonel Rhodes and Ms Potts.

Steve had never seen this man before. What made him so special?

“Tony?” he tried one more time. When Tony pulled away slightly from the embrace it encouraged him to further ask, “What’s going on here? Who is this?”

He couldn’t stop the crushed feeling in his chest when Tony ignored him. Cold trepidation washed over him as Steve stared at the two men hugging. Steve unconsciously took another step forward, hand outstretched.

“Tony? Tony!”

The two men stepped back startled by the outburst, but their arms never separated. The man with the large hat clung to Tony and shook his head in astonishment. “Holmes, is that really you? What on Earth is happening, and what are you _wearing_?”

Tony smiled, genuinely smiled, and Steve came to realize he hadn’t seen that smile in such a long time. Not a smile Tony meant. “It’s… a bit of a long story, old friend,” he said to the man. That unfamiliar accent still in his voice.

“I don’t see myself going anywhere.” The man with the hat shifted to look at Steve. “Who is this fellow here?”

Tony followed his gaze. A bit surprised at the sight of Steve standing behind him. “Steve? What are you doing here?”

Steve felt frustration moving in. “What am _I_ doing here? The place is a mess, the warning lights were on, you’re hugging this man I’ve never seen before and he’s calling you Holmes, and you’re asking why _I’m_ here? Who is _this_?”

His heart broke a little more when Tony moved to block the strange man. “Nobody of importance to you. Get out.”

The man placed a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony didn’t pull away or flinched. If anything he actually seemed to lean into it. “Holmes is there someplace I can rest? I’ve no clue what I just experienced, but I feel I’ll fall any second.”

It was odd to see how quick Tony went from a defensive stance to scurrying around and getting everything in place. “Yes, of course!”

He moved a simple stool for the man to take and once situated the man gestured at everything. “Holmes, what is all this? I know you go into isolated phases when I’m gone but certainly never to this extent. All the items in this room are so… bright. I fear I’ll go blind any second.”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Ah, about that, Watson. Let’s just say any phases I’ve gone through in the past compares nothing to all of this. Perhaps it’s a good thing you’re already sitting.” He took a deep breath. “What year is it, Watson?”

“1889,” the man answered dutifully, confused by the question.

“Not here, I’m afraid. It’s 2017. You’re currently outside of Britain. In land West of the sea.  I am not sure how, Watson, but it seems you’ve jumped ahead in time.”

Steve’s brain scrambled to make sense of what Tony had just said and what the man had just revealed. The man shared a similar experience for his eyes were wide and his mouth open. “You’re mad, Holmes.” He finally settled on when he regained his voice.

“Perhaps,” Tony agreed, “for all I know you could be a figment of my imagination and I’ve finally snapped, looking for familiarity in an old friend. If I were to pinch you, would you disappear?” As if to prove this theory Tony reached to the man. Index finger and thumb curling to each other.

To Steve’s complete shock, the man swatted Tony’s hand away in reflex. Scowl on his face as if they’d already gone through this exact scene, but instead of Tony retaliating, he actually looked _relieved_. “You never change.”

“Neither have you,” the man frowned, looking around in disbelief but no longer as upset. A beeping sound from the corner caught his attention as DUM-E whirred over. Watson stared in amazement as the robot lowered its claw to offer him a blanket.

Steve watched as the man muttered a polite ‘thank you’ as he stared in wonder at the robot. After Watson accepted the blanket, DUM-E twirled in a circle before turning back to his charging station. The man wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “This really isn’t a dream is it, old friend?”

Tony nodded, still in a daze as his eyes flickered to Steve. “No, it doesn’t seem to be does it?”

Steve sucked in a deep breath as his mind caught up to the conversation. “So this man, Watson you said, is a time-traveller from the 1800s and you _know_ him?”

Tony blinked, turning to Steve in surprise, that new accent still in place. “That’s the gist of it. You seem to be accepting this rather easily.”

Steve shrugged helplessly. What else could he do but accept it? They’ve fought aliens, genetically enhanced humans, hell, he himself had experienced jumping time. He was two of the oddities listed. At least he and Tony were talking again. At least now they had a problem at hand they could both deal with _together_. “You’re talking to a man who was born in the 40s. Time-travelling isn’t honestly the weirdest thing that’s happened to us.”

Steve moved closer, positioning himself between the two men as he crossed his arms. “Now _, what’s_ going on? Who exactly is this man and why is he calling you Holmes?”

Tony eyed him intently, eyes hard and wary. He appeared to be debating with himself about what he was to say. His stance ready for either a fight or flight response. An unconscious move Steve had noted happen when face with an uncomfortable situation.

Tony didn’t want him to know and looked ready to defend his choice, but the man by the name of Watson reached out and touched his elbow gently. The results were instant. Tony relaxed, eyes going soft when he turned his gaze to the man and nodded.

“You might want to sit down for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed that chapter - let us know what you think! Come chat with us on tumblr! [naferty](http://naferty.tumblr.com) | [summerpipedream](http://summerpipedream.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

Steve watched from the corner of the workshop, sketchbook long forgotten on his lap as he stared at the two men. Watson waved his arms wildly in the air as the holograms whizzed around him. His hands playing no role in their movement and his eyes widened in awe and wonderment. Tony beamed beside him as he explained the various diagrams and pictures flashing by while he lazily twirled the holograms around them.

“How fantastic Holmes. I can’t believe it!”

Neither could Steve. He was still reeling from Tony’s explanation.

Tony had sat them both down on the couch beside one another with a notable space in-between. Steve could feel the other man’s curious glances out of the corner of his eye. Steve smiled a tight smile before turning his attention back to Tony. The genius leaned atop the stool and began his explanation.

It seemed like something out of a science fiction novel, Steve thought blearily as Tony explained, and that was saying a lot considering Steve himself was the product of science fiction becoming reality. Tony had actually been born in the 1800s under the name Sherlock Holmes, and the man here sitting beside him was his friend and partner from back then, Dr. John Watson.

“But how are you still alive? And well... _young_?” asked Watson with something akin to envy coloring his voice once the shock settled down.

Steve blinked, head turning back to Tony, considering what the man had asked. Watson was right. Even if Tony survived that long...

“A serum of sorts with a chemical mixture that rivals all recent attempts put together,” replied Tony, eyes darting to Steve, rubbing at his wrists. “It had been experimental -”

Steve stared at Tony in shock.

_You’re a laboratory experiment Rogers._

“- experimental?” exclaimed Watson. “Was it voluntary on your part or-” Watson trailed off, narrowing his eyes. Steve felt his blood turn cold. He had seen the scars that littered Tony’s body, and knew that some were from Afghanistan, but he never considered, had never _thought_ that there could’ve been something _more_ -

“Holmes,” Watson pressed on, “was it _voluntary,_ or -?”

“The how doesn’t matter anymore,” interrupted Tony, gaze flickering to Steve. Shame littered those brown eyes of him. Shame that could only come from a reveal and realization mixed together.

_Everything special about you came from a bottle._

“What matters,” Tony continued, turning back to Watson. Left hand shaking slightly. “Is that somehow, you’ve managed to make your way to the _future_ and I’ve had no knowledge about it until now. You being here has not altered any memories I carried of our time together that I’m aware of. Logically speaking, any positive or negative changes your visit might cause would’ve already be felt as we speak. So, either you were always meant to visit us Watson, and will eventually be returned back to your time with nothing amiss. Or, this is an unpredicted freak-accident that will eventually cause a storm of paradoxes that will result in all of mankind’s complete and utter destruction.”

The stunned silence that followed even caused Tony to join momentarily. “I’d like to believe it’s the first one.” He finished with a lighter tone.

Watson took a deep breath, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. “A potential world-ending paradox. Why am I not surprised?” He shook his head fondly. “Then again, with you Holmes, I’ve long learned to expect the impossible. You always seem to attract it.”

Tony chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “It’s only Tuesday so we were due for a potential catastrophic world ending event sooner or later. Now, let’s run some tests and see which disaster we’ve got shall we?” Panic suddenly crossed his eyes. “Before all that we need to focus on you, old friend. The medical field has advanced tremendously and I fear so has the diseases and viruses in order to keep up. I will not allow illnesses to be your downfall. FRI? Contact my doctor will you, dear? And write up a nondisclosure agreement. I’m not letting this get out.”

“On it, Boss.”

And so, hours flew by into days in a haze of scans, tests, experiments and reasonable explanations that weren’t really believed by the doctor after their inquiry as to why Watson didn’t have the proper immune system to fight off the common cold. All the while Watson sat patiently and indulged all of Tony’s concerns with a fond smile and waved away all his concerns. “That’s not necessary, Holmes,” and Tony ignoring him, “I will not lose you to a cough, Watson.”

Steve was present every day, bringing down a whirlwind of emotions with him as he planted himself on the couch with his sketchbook that he wouldn’t touch. He stared at the two men born in a previous century catch up as if time had never passed or had been considered a factor.

His pencil rested on top of the sketchbook, snapped in half as a victim during a moment of uncontrolled anger. Unconsciously done and not given a second thought.

Two men born of a different century. Two men out of time. Two men in exactly the same situation as himself and Bucky, and yet not. Two men who ended up with the better end of the deal.

Bucky, who Steve had thought would want to rekindle their friendship from the distant past, had left to find himself once again. _Nothing is the same_ , Bucky had said. No matter how much they hoped or begged, nothing could give back the pieces of himself that Hydra ripped and destroyed.

 _I’m gonna go and make things right_ . _No more red ledgers,_ and before Steve could even move to pack his bags, Bucky shook his head. Steve startled and took a step back.

“Buck-”

“I’m not Bucky. Haven’t been for a long time. Hydra killed Bucky Barnes a long time ago.”

Steve exhaled sharply, “You know that’s not true -”

“Isn’t it?” Bucky took a step forward. “I died the moment I fell off that train, Steve. Hydra took me apart piece by piece, tearing away at my mind until there was almost nothing left. They scooped me out and filled me up with someone else.”

Bucky cut off as he took a long breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend anymore. I’m not him, your Bucky. No matter how much you want me to be.”

Bucky flexed his new arm, the metal glinting in the light. “I know there are fragments in here, bits and pieces of who I am, of who I once was. But if I’m going to move forward, to scrap and rebuild, I need to work on actually _moving_ forward, and I can’t do that with you there.”

He spoke slowly and deliberately, each word striking Steve right in the gut, squeezing his chest and sucking all the oxygen out of the room. “I’m sorry. I know you were only doing what you believed was helping me, and that’s all you can really do. Every time I think of the past, of who I used to be, of all the things I’ve done, I feel like I’m drowning.” Bucky swallowed tightly, “and every time you look at me, I see you expecting, wanting, _hoping_ , but I can’t let you down like this anymore. I’m sorry.”

Steve couldn’t breathe. As if something heavy was pressed against his chest and wouldn’t let up.

“I need to do this for myself, by myself. Without you. You know if you need me, I’ll be there. I promise.” said Bucky, swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder. “For now...goodbye Steve.”

And without another word, without another glance behind him, Bucky was gone.

And now Tony, who Steve had thought to be a man born of the future, was actually a man of the past and nobody knew. _He_ hadn’t known. Tony never once hinted on it and never showed it. He was so well-adjusted and always looking at tomorrow that the very idea this man carried a long, heavy past on his shoulders was near impossible to fathom.

How had Tony done it? To look at tomorrow without missing yesterday or carrying regret? To look at a long lost friend with a smile and not show unspoken loss or longing? To return to a centuries mannerism without a struggle as if it had been just yesterday while Steve still struggled to remember modern slang.

Tony was a man out of time. A man who wouldn’t be there in the first place if it hadn’t been because of a bottle. A man who was just like Steve and everything special about him came out of a _damn bottle_.

The memory of Tony uttering those words replayed in his mind. The sting of it fresh in his chest and it made him grit his teeth. Tony had the nerve to say it to his face when he himself was no different and kept the world in the dark about it. Fury and Natasha never showed any signs of the knowledge and if those two were in the dark along with the rest of the world odds were nobody, public or secret, knew.

He wondered if Tony’s closest friends were even aware of it. Colonel Rhodes, Miss Potts, the bodyguard Hogan? Did they have a kindling of awareness about it? Any clue that their friend Tony Stark was actually Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective who solved cases so incredible they could only be fictional? Then again, compared to the revelation recently made and aliens, enhanced humans, space gods and time travel, those cases were more realistic than the actual reality they currently lived in.

Did Tony trust _them_ when he didn’t trust his team?

No, no he couldn’t say that. He had no right. None of them did. Steve had kept secrets and Tony had kept his own and the team… the team hadn’t given much reason to place trust or confidence on Tony’s part. Steve could admit to that.

He could also admit that Tony had returned the favor in full.

Steve shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He couldn’t let his emotions of the moment take control. It would result in doing or saying something he’d regret later, that they’d regret later.

He knew the moment that Tony felt he was being pushed against the wall, he’d lash out. Tony would strike back just as harshly, if not harder. Words would be tossed around, cutting deep.  

They both knew exactly what to say, how to hurt each other where it hurts the most. He had to remain calm, keep it civil. He was attempting to get the friendship between himself and Tony back. Not make it worse.

He had to step back. Now was not the time to be pointing fingers about whose lies were worse, and who was hurt the most. But as he watched Tony continue to smile with bright eyes as he explained something while Watson listened to every word with the utmost focus and kind, caring eyes his own advice proved harder to do. Then, Watson wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders and gave a squeeze that radiated comfort and familiarity with nothing amiss. No hint of time having passed between the pair. A sight that once upon a time, would’ve been Steve and Bucky.

They were nothing like what Steve and Bucky were currently going through with each other, and Steve couldn’t help but think it unfair. Why couldn’t that be him? _Them?_ Why couldn’t that be Bucky with his arms around Steve’s shoulders? Or the other way around? Why couldn’t that be…

Steve’s hands clenched. _Why couldn’t that be Tony and Steve?_

He had no right to ask.

His arm around Tony’s shoulders as the two rekindled a friendship he thought they once had, torn apart at both ends with little thought. And now here Steve remained. Sat on a couch and left alone as Bucky traveled to find himself with Natasha and Tony caught up with his old friend Watson, and all Steve could do was watch and feel… out of place. Like he most often felt nowadays.

An outsider in his own home. Except… it hadn’t even felt like home in so long, even after returning. Nothing felt like it, even with a familiar roof over his head. There was something missing and it remained missing, no matter how much effort Steve put into searching for it.

As he continued to watch the two men of a different century from the outside, he was left to wonder when exactly he had lost his home, and when, if ever, he was going to get it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed that chapter - let us know what you think! Come chat with us on tumblr: [naferty](http://naferty.tumblr.com) | [summerpipedream](http://summerpipedream.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, we're back! It's been a while, and we can't promise when we'll have the next chapter out, but we hope you enjoy this one!

Tony’s routine over the next few days was a strange one. **  
**

Some things were still the same. He still beelined for the coffee machine, yawning while he blearily scrolled through emails, waiting for his water to boil. After nearly burning his tongue, he trudged down either to meetings or down to his workshop.

Having his dear friend back was always mind-boggling, and Tony still had to pinch himself every time Watson replied to one of Tony’s absentminded mumblings with a question of his own. It had been a long time since he was used to having someone who could answer back to him that wasn’t his bots or FRIDAY, or willingly spend their time in his workshop. Watson had every right to his curiosity of the future, and a library was available at his disposal and will, yet most of his curiosity was sated in Tony’s very own safe space.

Something Watson’ hadn’t enjoyed lingering in when it came to sharing a flat in the past.

Yet, with all the strangeness came this wonderful feeling of  _rightness_. He hadn’t realized how much he missed having someone, having  _anyone_ , tell him his work was brilliant or incredible and genuinely mean it, without the want of anything in return.

It was both wonderful and bittersweet, knowing that Watson would have to be sent back. The selfish, dark part inside of him just wanted to cling to his old friend and never let him go. The futurist inside of him, however, knew that no matter how happy he would be with Watson here, he could not allow the timeline to be meddled with. Watson had his own future with Mary, his own family to raise and his own career to work. Time had moved on and the 20th century was a whole new can of worms for Watson to adjust to.

Watson was truly a man out of time. He didn’t have 70 years worth of customs and views and rules to adapt to, he had  _centuries_.

Needless to say, Tony’s feelings have been in a constant loop of perpetual weirdness and turmoil. Yet, he was still surprised when he walked into the kitchen that morning.

For the first morning in a very long time, Tony stared blearily at the full breakfast spread out all across the kitchen table. Basket of bacon, toast and bagels were arranged neatly in the center of the table. Three place settings were neatly arranged, with large purple napkins folded and laid across each plate.

Steve stood at the stove a ladle in hand as he poured pancake batter onto the sizzling pan. He nodded in satisfaction, tilting the pan so the batter coated the pan evenly. Tony cleared his throat. “What’s with the full table? Is Thor coming to visit?”

Steve straightened, his eyes flickering as Tony entered the kitchen. Steve’s mouth gaped for a moment before he cleared his throat, almost nervously collecting himself.

Tony felt a twinge of guilt as Steve wrung his hands together, his mind whirling with what could’ve happened. He had been so caught up with the arrival and excitement of Watson that he’s been neglecting his other...teammate.

Ever since Steve had chosen to return to the tower, things have been...tense to say the least.

As much as Tony appreciated Rhodey’s rants on having Steve stay with him until the rest of the Accord amendments go through,  _“I don’t care if I have to tear my legs off and repeatedly hit him it until he’s down, if he so as much tries **anything**  like he did in Siberia-_”, in the long term, Steve choosing to stay in the tower with him while the rest of the team remained in the compound until negotiations were completed was the best thing moving forward. It allowed the two leaders of the Avengers to settle differences and issues. If they actually got around to hashing it out, that is.

He had to admit. They were both pretty stubborn.

Tony watched in fascination as Steve took a deep breath. “I made breakfast for all of us.”

Tony’s face must’ve shown how confused he was, because Steve barrelled on. “I just- I never really did welcome him properly. I just thought that brunch might be- nice you know? He’s your friend and important to you, and I don’t know how long he’s staying - not that I want him gone or anything, because I don’t mind - I mean, not that I-I have a say, I - fuck, I’m ruining this-”

Tension he didn’t even know he had suddenly lifted off his shoulders at that moment. For all the awkward moments and times that Tony brushed off Steve’s apologies, for the first time in a long time, the air between them didn’t feel as if it was trying to swallow him whole. He could… almost breathe easily in Steve’s presence. Something not done ever since their disagreement in Siberia.

Without thinking, Tony stepped forward and placed a hand on Steve’s shoulders. “Thank you. He’ll appreciate it. I appreciate it, Steve. Thank you.”

Like air released from a balloon, Steve’s shoulders relaxed, and Tony could see the sheer relief in his eyes as Steve smiled back. Tony cleared his throat and gestured towards the basket of oranges. “How about some freshly squeezed orange juice? I’ll fire up the juicer while you're finishing up the pancakes.”

Steve’s smile was blinding. “Thank you, Tony, that would be wonderful.”

Side-by-side they worked together in a comfortable silence, and while things weren’t back to how they were once upon a time, it was peaceful.

These days, that’s all Tony could ever hope for.

* * *

 

For the first time in all the years, he’s been an Avenger, Steve pushed open the door to the library of the Tower. To his surprise, it was much cozier than he thought it would be. Rows and rows of bookshelves lined the room, filled with books of all shapes and sizes. A few large armchairs faced the inviting wooden fireplace that Steve could easily picture crackling and roaring on a cold winter’s day.

It was much cozier than the modern space that Steve expected, and he could feel a twinge of guilt as that flitted across his mind. The more that Steve looked, the more he realized that there was much less he knew about Tony than he initially realized.

What more would he find if he actually paid attention to his surroundings? He recognized modern styles easily now and noticed they combined with styles now rarely seen in this day and age. Styles he was unfamiliar with. Styles he couldn’t name.

Was this how Tony had coped? To feel the comfort of home while adapting as time moved on. Keep memories here and there as to never forget where he came from?

Steve may not have realized it before, but he was determined to change that...starting today.

Walking up and down the rows, Steve’s eyes scanned the books, waiting for something to jump out at him to help him in his research.

“If I may Captain,” interrupted FRIDAY, “if you describe to me what you are looking for, I will be able to help you locate what you are looking for.”

“I wanted to learn more about Tony,” said Steve, uncomfortable in admitting it to the creation of the very man he’s trying to research, “and Doctor Watson as well. If the information is available.”

Steve inhaled sharply, “Unless Tony doesn’t want me poking around, in which case-”

“It is not restricted to you Captain Rogers,” Steve could be wrong, but he could swear there was a teasing tone to FRIDAY’s voice. “Give me a moment to scan please.”

FRIDAY was silent for a moment. “I would suggest taking the bookshelf two rows down on your left Captain. There should be a small red leather book that would be useful to you.”

Taking FRIDAY’s suggestion, Steve scanned the bookshelf. A familiar name caught his eye, and Steve pulled out the older book. The smell of musk hit his nose right away and the pages appeared delicate to the touch, but the book was in very good condition for its age.

 _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_  was printed in a golden cursive along the spine of the book.

“Well that’s a little on the nose isn’t it?” Steve chuckled to himself. He should have thought of that himself in the first place.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Captain, but boss is requesting that if your offer to help is still standing, to please reconvene in the lab.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, FRIDAY. Could you tell him I’m on my way?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers. They are waiting for your arrival.”

Steve hurried out of the library, glancing once more at the small book before deciding to tuck it into his back pocket. It was a start and he was taking it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed that chapter - let us know what you think! Come chat with us on tumblr: [naferty](http://naferty.tumblr.com) | [summerpipedream](http://summerpipedream.tumblr.com)


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